


Kartik's Foolhardiness (And Aman's Enduring Frustration)

by I_Shouldnt_Be_Here



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Abandon logic while reading this, Aman saves the day, Attempt at Humor, Author is definitely out of control, Fluff, Funny, Kartik is cursed to speak in rhyming poetry, Kinda, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, VERY irreverent, Yaksha Aman, Yaksha Kartik, Yakshas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here
Summary: Kartik thought he could do one job correctly, that is, being the messenger for the Kingdom of the Yakshas. Turns out, even that is not the case. His big mouth gets him into a lot of trouble. This time it was a rhyming-poetry curse.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tinevisce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinevisce/gifts).



> Well, I did promise that I'd make the Yaksha-niche in this fandom into a rabbit hole... Here you go!  
> Enjoy!

Kartik walked into Kubera’s palace where he was holding court with the rest of the ‘important’ yakshas. 

The entrance doors of Kubera’s palace were of pure gold and the roof shone with round mirrors like liquid mercury. Kartik remembered being curious about the receding hairlines of married women in Uttarapatha and Dakshinapatha(1) and got to know that the vermillion _sindoor_ they used had mercury in it. 

He remembered time-travelling a century or two forward (disguised as a trader from Sindh) and striking up a conversation with Aristotle about his beloved  _ hydroargyros,  _ how it was so brilliantly silver on its own and a rusty, shiny red when it was taken from the womb of mother earth _.  _ Kartik knew he had limited time travel privileges but he didn’t care.

Kartik shook his head. Aman said he had the habit of meandering into what he called ‘thought spirals’. This habit often interrupted with his ability to cast spells and incantations. He had a report to present. He was the messenger for  _ Yakshagana _ after all.

Kartik walked the long hallway into the main court with the points of his monthly report of the mortal world. He knew that the other Yakshas in court would have expressions of consternation and disbelief on their faces.

Honestly, a monthly report was inadequate for documenting and broadcasting human stupidity to  _ Yakshagana. _

Kartik also knew that the other Yakshas disliked him. His name was a problem. He had been mortal aeons ago, and his name had carried that burden with him, because mortals named their offspring after gods.

He had travelled far and wide, all the way from Yakshagana, to all possible empires of the mortal world. His dearest wish was to step foot in Amaravati, the abode of the devas but a Yaksha bearing the name of the  _ war god _ Kartik would certainly be viewed as an act of effrontery. (The devas had painfully fragile egos.)

Kartik gave a sigh and proceeded to scratch the closed entrance door of the courtier with the little finger of his left hand.(2) Kartik failed to understand the usefulness of this rule when his magic could blast that door open in a few seconds.

His fingernail scratched the long thin groove carved into the wooden door created as a result of this rule. He stared at the carvings inlaid with iridescent nacre, detailing Kubera’s victory over the Nagas and then becoming the subsequent custodian of all wealth contained on the surface and in the womb of Mother Earth(3). Painfully fragile and overblown egos were not a symptom prevalent just in Amaravati. 

An usher opened the doors and allowed him entry into the court. All the courtier yakshas and Kubera angled their glances toward Kartik. 

Kartik walked the long deep blue carpet. He kept his head down, looking at the legs of the ottomans the courtiers used as seats. He went closer to Kubera, focusing downward upon his three legs. All people present in court had to keep their glance focused downward until directly addressed by Kubera. 

“What news do you bear of the mortal world, O Messenger of Yakshagana?” Kubera focused his one eye upon Kartik.(4)

Kartik slowly raised his head upward, looking into Kubera’s eye. He took a deep breath and began.

The kings of Hastinapura and Panchala are casting their net of aspirations wider. War is possible in the future.

Two ships, one from Sindh and the other from Greece crashed into each other because the translators on both ships were sick.

The Chinese Emperor sent a love letter to the Princess of Kalinga. Rumours tell me a ship is ready to help them elope at the earliest.

Rumours tell me, in Amaravati that the Gandharvas and the Apsaras ganged up to play a prank on Indra, when he was drunk. Shachi is furious at her husband’s wayward habits.(5) Expect heavy rainfall and thunderstorms due to Indra’s misplaced wrath. Though I suspect he is angry because he got spurned by a mortal woman.

Lord Vishnu is charming Vrindavana with his tricks as Krishna. The latest one includes lifting a mountain with his little finger(6). What a show off.

In Panchala, Shikhandini, possessing a female body, but had been raised as a son by Dhrupad king of Panchala, borrowed one of our Yakshas’ manhood to become a man, Shikhandi.(7)

Kartik released the breath he was holding. Kubera scanned the air above him from left to right, as if Kartik had ejected a physical bulletin-script out of his mouth that Kubera was currently reading.

His one eye widened as he digested the information. Kartik stared downward. If he had looked upward then he would have seen Kubera’s face turning sour at the last point.

“Thank you, Messenger of Yakshagana. You may stand to the side.” 

Kartik semicircled halfway to the edge of the deep blue carpet. Meanwhile, Kubera’s gaze turned left and right to the other courtier Yakshas. He was furious.

“Which Yaksha lent their manhood to Shikhandi _ ni _ ?” Kubera spat.

An ominous fist clenched itself around Kartik’s chest. He continued staring downward, practising the number of ‘socially-acceptable expressions by which a Yaksha could portray total incredulity in court’.

An usher went off to summon the Yaksha in question. A dead silence hung in the court for a few minutes, while Kubera scanned everyone present in court with his eye.

Those few minutes passed and Kartik could not hold it any longer.

“O Lord of The Riches of the Mother Earth, I am sure you know this, but isn’t Shikhandi a child of Prophecy(7)?” Kartik was careful to use the most respectful title. 

“Yes I do realise that. But this is an  _ important  _ matter.” Kubera said impassively

“And you also realise that interfering in the birth, life or death of a child of Prophecy doesn’t have favourable consequences according to the Decree of the Three Gods.” 

“Are you questioning my decisions? Remember I can make your existence  _ very  _ miserable.” Kubera shot back.

“No, Lord of the Riches of the Mother Earth, just telling you of the risks involved.” 

The other yakshas looked at Kartik nervously, as he continued talking back. 

The usher brought in the yaksha in question. Kartik’s face soured immediately. This yaksha wasn’t keen on giving straight answers, instead preferring to wrap them in rhyming poetry. That yaksha was much appreciated in a poetry convention, but otherwise nobody wandered close to them. Kubera asked him for his explanation.

“Don’t mock a killingbird

Your accusations are absurd

As for Shikhandi’s case

I’d leave it to fate’s grace.” This seemed to anger Kubera further.

“I do not mind lending at all

All debts return to the earth, post fall

Why has this matter riled you?

Or have you narrowed your world view?” 

Kubera was positively flaming. He dismissed the yaksha, focusing his gaze on Kartik. He was about to cool down and forget the matter entirely, but Kartik burst into dialogue righteously. 

Talk about insubordination.

“Yes. Why does Shikhandi worry you so much? You  _ know _ that Yakshas are neither male nor female. I’m stuck permanently in male form because I had been a male as a mortal. I mean, there’s so many other things to worry about in my report. For example (Kartik took a pause)

You’re not worried that the Pandavas built Indraprastha over Khandavaprastha on  _ your  _ lent money and are now currently frolicking in the Dandakaranya forests due to some  _ dumb _ bet with their half brothers,(8)

The Pandava brothers are least interested to repay your loans,

You’re not worried that your worship will get replaced by capitalism in a few centuries,

You’re not worried that entire kingdoms are on the brink of war,

_ Of all the hills to die upon _ !” 

Kartik ended his violent outburst by loudly cradling his head in his hands. He completely missed Kubera’s one eye literally ejecting flames at him.

“And I am sure that another mortal had approached a yaksha to borrow their  _ womanhood _ , you wouldn’t be so angry.” Kartik spat bitterly. 

“Messenger of Yakshagana, you have crossed all limits today. I told you I could make your existence  _ very  _ miserable.”

Kubera’s stone cold words sent chills down Kartik’s spine. He knew he had a curse coming for him. At least casting that spell would make Kubera forget about Shikhandi.

“You have earned yourself a curse, Messenger of Yakshagana.” Kubera had a strangely mischievous smile on his face. The chills down Kartik’s spine turned slimy.

“Since you are so keen on poetry today, you’re cursed to speak in limericks for an indefinite time period.” Kartik remembered pondering about what limericks were before being hit by a painful white beam of light.

A flash hit Kartik, leaving him disoriented for a second. He swooned and his sight blurred. He saw white flashes behind his eyes while his vision refocused. He opened his mouth to speak, immediately losing control over his lips. 

“What is this ‘limerick’ that you speak of?

Why am I talking like this, my love? 

This punishment is worthless indeed

Messing with a human, that too prophesied

Does not Lord Kubera behove.

_ (Kartik gagged, anything went to make it rhyme.) _

Those words sounded ominous. Kartik was rather sure that the format was generally used for humorous or nonsense poetry, but the court was wrung out of any kind of humour today. Kartik immediately clapped his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from speaking any more. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further. 

_ Now how do I explain this to Aman?  _ He thought. 

…

Kartik stepped into their sacred grove. A gentle smile came over his face immediately as he saw the green dripping lusciously from each branch. Springtime was eternal here. 

He wanted to strike up a conversation with the animals and other nature spirits that lived here but he thought that they wouldn’t appreciate impromptu cursed poetry. After speaking those lines in court, Kartik had a rough grip on what a ‘limerick’ was. It seemed to be a five-line format, with a specific rhyme scheme. Probably this was a format which was to be popular in the future and Kubera knew because he could time travel more extensively than any other yaksha. 

Kartik’s face soured, because of Kubera’s careless misuse of time travel. 

Kartik knew the outline of what was to happen with Shikhandi, but the problem with time travel was that the more you stretched yourself across the timeline, events and people blurred, often leaving him with only random bits of information.

He knew that a woman smelt like fish, some hero called Achilles loved a boy called Patroclus, Greek aristocrats wore glorified bedsheets, a king was about to bring a revolution from being utterly disgusted by the bloodied battlefield of Kalinga and another was to signify the end of an era by having his head chopped off by something called a ‘guillotine’.

But he could never figure out the entire plot. Time travel was a headache.

He entered their dwelling, made of stone. It looked like a beehive from the front and it extended underground, where Aman worked their nature magic.

He could hear the sounds of vigorous activity, erratic rustles and sizzles close to the ground surface. 

Kartik ventured inside the house and saw Aman standing in a doorway. As soon as they saw Kartik, their eyes averted and angled downward. Kartik saw the tilt of shoulders and eyes and immediately knew that Aman was playing a game.

He came closer, gingerly, steps curving playfully until they were a foot away from Aman. Kartik hooked a finger under Aman’s chin and lifted it diagonally to meet his eyes.

Aman’s eyes met him with a twinkle. He batted his eyelashes back, tracing his fingers across their jaw.

“Why do you stay away from me so much of the time? I know you are the official messenger, but make some time for me too...It’s been so many days since we’ve touched each other. You’re travelling so much as if you’re competing to make Narada jealous(9). The only person you’re making jealous is  _ me. _ ” Aman huffed and turned their chin away.

Kartik bit his lip to stop bursting out into a limerick. Aman misread it as  _ interest _ . They stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheeks and jaw. Kartik was almost relieved that Aman wasn’t asking him for a reply. He glanced deeply into Aman’s eyes, asking for permission. Aman complied with a wink. 

They kissed him on the lips deeply, tongues intertwining. Kartik was afraid to let a moan out, but he found that moans or other non-verbal sounds did not activate the curse.

But trouble doesn’t take long to strike. A few words slipped out of Kartik’s mouth and his control ebbed away. Aman was kissing his collarbone when that happened.

“You’resobeautifulthat…” Kartik immediately bit Aman’s neck to physically stop his mouth from ejecting words. 

“Ahh, Kartik what the hell are you doing?” Aman let out a moan of pain. Then they saw him physically covering his mouth and his eyes widening. His cheeks swelled, until he finally released his hands.

“You’re so beautiful that

You’re the talk among the blue rat

Eyes so pretty, like dead buttons

They’ll open the doors, the shut-ins

But my awful rhyme made me A-flat.” 

Kartik spat and gave a sigh of relief. Then hung his head in disappointment. Aman’s  _ interest _ diminished considerably during this whole display of weird rhyme.

“What the heck has happened to you?” They asked. 

“Do not ask me that please

Lord Kubera is an awful tease

He cursed me to speak in limerick

And he’s a victim of bad time travel arithmetic

My sharp replies caused him to be displeased.

Kartik was almost on the verge of crying. He was trying so hard to fight the curse. Aman was considerably amused at Kubera’s creative choice of punishment, so much that his...erm... _ mood _ getting ruined by Kartik’s weird poetry could almost be forgiven.

Aman let out a hearty snicker. Kartik was annoyed, but he chose not to speak for the fear of bursting into another limerick.

Aman held his hands immediately, activating their  _ bond. _ Both of them closed their eyes. The bond worked well if the yakshas in question knew each other well, preferably being friends or lovers.

Kartik and Aman had been each other’s lovers for a very long time, their bond worked crystal clear. 

They held Kartik’s hands and dived headfirst into his swivelling, dancing, fleeting thoughts. Each one was different, some burned as a watery, shifting image while others had only words and smells, interspersed with what he called thought-fog.

He gleaned the overall plot of what happened with Kartik since morning. 

…

“I am goddamn frustrated with that curse of yours! And dare you reply in that ridiculous limerick of yours! I swear if you rhyme ‘dick’ with ‘stick’ one more time I’m going to freaking leave this grove.” 

Kartik bit back his urge to reply. Fighting against that curse did not work. He had to first let go of any urge to speak, then only a few words (not in rhyme) would slip out of his mouth. Aman paced back and forth irritably.

Aman thought furiously of ways to break this curse. It involved appeasing Kubera and that in itself was hard. Kubera had a fickle mind, and was captivated with anything new. For a deity who spanned entire  _ yugas* _ , what novelty could a yaksha with a limited lifespan possibly offer?

A nascent seed of an idea planted itself into their head.

…

A week or so later, Kartik saw Aman working their nature-magic in an underground room. Clouds of white fumes edged with silver gathered around them, and it seemed like a ghostly white plant was on the brink of materialisation. Kartik was spellbound at the white fumes dancing and shifting lusciously around Aman.

“What are you up to, my dear?

Is this the boldest move of your nature-magic career?

The ghostly white plant is ethereal

Silverness not entirely material

Sorry I’ll go back to my hemisphere.”

Kartik was positively mortified. Him and his stupid mouth. 

Three things happened at once, the white fumes vanished, Aman approached him, and punched his shoulders thrice.

“I’m freaking doing this for  _ you,  _ okay?” The frustration on his face was visible as a single vein throbbed over their temple.

The next day onward, Aman cast a spell to prevent Kartik from entering.

…

Then finally, Aman deactivated the seal around their workspace to let Kartik enter.

“Okay, so this is what we’re going to present to Kubera as an apology. I’ll call it...” After that Aman spelt a long name in the ancient tongue, which Kartik understood as  _ white rhododendron.  _ Or at least what the Greeks would have said to make it easier for humans to understand. 

Kartik was relieved. He had to give the next monthly report in a few days, and he did  _ not _ want to present it in limericks. Aman showed him a small plant in a pot, bearing ghostly-white flowers.

There was a single bunch of those flowers at the very top of the plant, the petals translucent. Narrow green leaves sprouted in a surrounding crown under the ball-like formation of flowers.

“This is impressive, but doesn’t it look a little too run-of-the-mill? Maybe if it was a different colour…?” Kartik asked, much to Aman’s consternation.

“Okay, I give up. Clearly you do not appreciate what I am doing for you.” They said. Kartik but his tongue, the frustration was really getting to Aman.

“I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said it so directly. Okay, how did you create it?”

“I used every memory that was beautiful between us. 

The first time you looked into my eyes with adoration,

The first time you kissed me,

The first time you gave me your name,

The first time I gave you my name,

And other things.” He blushed red, as if afraid to disclose the rest of the process. Kartik melted a little at Aman’s inspiration. Aman’s earlier frustration vanished after looking at the  _ reverence _ in Kartik’s eyes.

“But now that you talk about it, I do think that something is missing. This white flower looks too  _ unpresent.  _ I mean, it looks as if it’s afraid to announce its presence in the eyes of the beholder. It’s petals are too translucent. We need something more sanguine, more corporal, more fearless to present to Kubera.” Aman conjectured.

An idea struck Kartik’s head. The word  _ sanguine _ stuck with him.

He closed his eyes and wandered deep into the recesses of his mind. Yes, he had unusual levels of thought-fog which made it hard for him to do any sort of nature magic, but he was passionate this time to make it happen.

Nature magic depended a lot on how much you _wanted_ it to happen. 

He dug through the vast collection of memories he had with Aman. He was looking for one specific memory.

_ Sanguine means cheerful, optimistic, hopeful, blood-red, bloodthirsty. _

The contrasting meanings of that word drummed repeatedly against his head until he found the memory he was looking for.

Meanwhile, Aman saw the plant quivering. Each petal of the plant withered, as if heavy with watery pigment. After the withering, a blood red colour seeped into each flower slowly.

This was perfect.

Kartik opened his eyes and swooned, as if he was tired. Aman caught him in their arms.

“I used the memory of the first tear you shed for me.” He breathed out. 

Aman kissed him on the cheek fiercely.

They completed each other.

…

Kartik found that he no longer spoke in limericks after coming from Kubera’s palace the next day.

…


	2. Chapter 2

Footnotes

  1. ‘Uttarapatha’ and ‘Dakshinapatha’ are the trade routes used to refer to the North and South of India respectively.
  2. That scratching of the door with the little finger is actually something that used to happen in the French court of Versailles. I tell you, pre French revolution kings, (Especially Louis XIV), were absolute mad lads. 
  3. Kubera is the god of wealth in Hindu mythology. Some stories say that he held that title after defeating the Nagas, which was a race that lived underground.
  4. Kubera is supposed to have one eye and three legs. Apparently he lost one of his eyes after Kubera looked at Shiva and Parvati with jealous eyes. (Cue massive shoulder shrug)
  5. Indra is basically the Indian Zeus. Total playboy who frolicked with mortal women. Gandharvas and Apsaras are semi-divine men and women who live to serve the gods in Amaravati. Indra’s wife is Shachi.
  6. Krishna apparently lifted the Govardhan mountain on his little finger to shield the villagers under it when Vrindavana was about to get inundated by a flood.
  7. Heavily lifted from the myth of Shikhandi. Shikhandi was a character in the Mahabharata, employed as a work around to Bhisma’s boon (Look up the rest of the myth please)
  8. Khandavaprastha was a huge forest which the Pandavas burnt down to make their city, Indraprastha. Totally author's imagination about the part of Kubera lending them any money or wealth to do that.
  9. Narada is a sage, Brahma’s son. He’s the messenger for the gods about whatever happens in the mortal world.



  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well yes, I know that I twisted the timeline entirely. (Sorry, Alpenglow3241 and Tinevisce)  
> The 'subscript' tag didn't seem to work, hence the ugly numbers in brackets...  
> I wrote this half-headbanging to angry rock music and half-crying to sad music. Don't blame me if it seems like I've lost a few brain cells haha. It's been a tough couple of weeks.   
> The next chapter is basically a huge footnote.   
> have a good day/night!  
> Kudos and comments make my day!  
> -Advaita


End file.
